


At Sunset

by der_tanzer



Series: Protective Custody [13]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:10:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a funeral, four men watch the sun set together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Tag to Who Really Watches the Sunset?, with spoilers. Also, the last canon story of this series.  
> 

The three detectives sat on the beach in their good suits, their butts planted in the sand just above the waterline, shoes and socks off, the gentle waves rolling up and over their feet. The sun was setting and they'd run out of things to say, each preoccupied with his own thoughts of Marlene, and of life and death in general.

Cody was missing his father in a vague way and feeling bad about avoiding his mom. Of course she wanted to see him. He'd always been her favorite, and the most like his father, and maybe that was what made him so uncomfortable that he tended to avoid her. The way she sometimes looked at him as if he _was_ his father never failed to make him feel guilty, because he wasn't the man his dad was, and he never would be. But she was his mom and she deserved better from him. He wondered if there had been anyone like that in Marlene's life, anyone who was thinking of her now and wishing he'd done things differently.

Nick's mind was on the war, the young men who hadn't come home, and the annoying-bordering-on-creepy way that it seemed to always be the ones with the most to live for who died first. It was never guys like him, guys with no family and few friends. Billy Joel said that only the good died young, and while he wasn't sure about that, he was pretty sure that the most popular went first. Looking at his friends, weighing and measuring the content of their lives, he knew that he would be the last to go.

Murray was the only one thinking about Marlene, the gross unfairness of a life cut short and the loss of a woman who could have been a good friend. He burned with shame at the memory of his awkward behavior, his frequent poor choices of words and all of the ways he'd inadvertently hurt her during the case. She'd forgiven him, though, every time. Marlene had those good manners that put everyone at ease, and her cheerful nature and keen sense of humor made it possible for him to go from _acting_ normal to actually _being_ normal. She was real, and she made it possible for those around her to be real, no matter what. Not long before she died, he'd managed to forget that she was dying. It made the end so much worse, and as he sat there in the sand with his two best friends, he wondered if he regretted getting involved. It was selfish, but Murray had never pretended to be a saint.

A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he flinched, tipping his head back to see who it was. But it was really a formality. He knew that hand.

"Hey, Ted," he whispered. Nick and Cody, who hadn't heard him approach or felt that hand on their shoulders, turned to look at him as well. Quinlan was still wearing his funeral suit, too, but he didn't hesitate before sitting down behind Murray in the sand.

"Lieutenant," Cody said quietly, respectfully. "How'd you know we were here?"

"Stopped by the boat after I left the station. When you weren't there, I didn't figure you'd be anywhere else."

Murray leaned back, oblivious of the other people on the beach, and let Ted hold him.

"I'm glad you made it to the service," he said after a while. "Marlene would have liked that."

"No she wouldn't," Quinlan laughed. "She never gave a tiny rat's ass what I did or said, and she wouldn't care if I went to her funeral or not. But she was a real lady," he went on, more seriously, "and she deserved a good turnout."

"You knew her a long time, didn't you?" Nick asked.

"Since I moved here. We were oil and water, like all cops and reporters are. They want the secrets and we have to hide 'em. But she played fair, and I respected her, even if it wasn't ever returned."

"She respected you," Murray said with the tone of one who knew. "She said you were a good cop."

"She did not," he scoffed and Murray blushed.

"Yeah, don't fib, Boz. Ted doesn't need it," Cody teased.

"No, really. She said—well, she said that you were—you know—an asshole. But that all good cops are. She said it was a rule."

To his surprise, Quinlan hugged him as he laughed, long and hard.

"Damn reporters," he said, still laughing. "They always get the last word."


End file.
